Renegade Rat
by Queen.Violet
Summary: There's a rat terrorizing Oliver in his kitchen while he's trying to make lunch. Whatever will he do? Appreciation fic for MJFastlane!


Another just because present! This one's for MJFastlane, another loyal reviewer! She is so awesome and deserved something for it...this is the result. Hopefully it is satisfactory.

She requested this: Oliver vs. a rat in his kitchen while he's making lunch. It was a fun idea, so I'm hoping I did it justice.

Disclaimer: I don't own Beyblade unfortunately. If I did, it would be a lot more random.

Enjoy!

* * *

It was a very peaceful morning in France. Oliver Boulanger had slept in and was currently still lying in bed. He had decided to be lazy today.

The Frenchman sighed contentedly. He was perfectly relaxed—then he remembered the reason why he'd been up so late last night.

Enrique.

The blond had showed up randomly before the time Oliver usually went to bed and he'd managed to keep his friend awake much longer than was normal.

At that moment, as if sensing he was being thought about, the Italian burst right into his friend's room. He then proceeded to jump onto Oliver's giant bed.

"Good morning!" Enrique greeted cheerily.

The Frenchman pretended not to hear the other boy and covered his head with his comforter.

"I know you're awake..." the blond informed his lazy friend.

Oliver continued to ignore him.

Enrique stayed where he was for a few minutes. Then he spotted the window. Its curtains were currently drawn across the window, keeping the sunlight out. He stood and made his way towards the windows. When he reached them, he threw open the curtains.

In an instant, the Italian was back by Oliver's bed—this time to steal his covers. The Frenchman groaned slightly in protest, burying his face in his pillow to shield his eyes from the light.

Enrique rolled his blue eyes. "Come on Olive! Get up."

"Don't call me Olive!" Oliver said, his voice muffled by the pillow.

The other teen decided to ignore this 'request'. "Good morning Trouble," he greeted the fast-growing kitten as it trotted through the door. "At least some of us know how to get up and face the day."

Oliver sighed into his pillow. "Enri, you kept me up last night. The least you could do is let me sleep in."

"But I can't! Maman told me not to let you sleep too long," Enrique said, calling Oliver's mother 'Maman'—in a way she was more like his mother than his own biological mother was.

"Did she also tell you not to keep me up late?" the green-haired teen inquired as he rolled onto his back.

The blond remained silent.

"Are you sure the fact that maman told you not to let me sleep in is the only reason you're dragging me out of bed?" Oliver asked, folding his arms behind his head.

"Well..."

The French teen raised an eyebrow inquisitively.

"Alright fine! I'm hungry," Enrique stated as he sat down on his friend's bed. Trouble joined them.

"Is that all?" Oliver asked. He got a feeling that the Italian was leaving something out.

"Well, you see, I met this girl this morning and—" Enrique started.

"Enri! You met a girl already?" the other teen said in disbelief. "What time is it?" he asked, sitting up and wandering just how long he'd been asleep.

"It's ten forty-five," Enrique informed his friend before continuing with his tale. "Anyway, I went to the restaurant this morning for breakfast and this girl was there—"

"What was her name?" Oliver interrupted.

"Avery," the blond answered.

"That's a nice name."

"Isn't it? She's on vacation with her family."

"From where?"

"I didn't ask."

Oliver sighed. "I suppose it doesn't really matter to you. Not yet anyway. So, blond, brunette or redhead?"

"Brunette—and wavy."

"What color were her eyes?"

"Hazel."

"Skin tone?"

"Tan, but not as dark as me."

"How tall was she?"

"Average."

Oliver always asked these questions when Enrique met a new girl (which was often). Not that it was really that important to him, but the Italian liked it when someone seemed interested in his latest catch. Plus, the descriptions would come in handy if the police came looking for the girl (which had happened before—and at Robert's house. Needless to say, the German had not been happy with Enrique.).

"Anything else?"

"She had a nice smile—with dimples. She also had nice—"

"Okay, I think that's enough description Enri!" Oliver said, stopping his friend before he started talking about anything below the girl's neck.

"Fine. I'll just continue with my story then. So I went over to her table—"

"Why do you always have to start something when you see a pretty girl?" Oliver wanted to know.

"It's not my fault! She was sitting by herself and she kept giving me 'the look'!" the blond told his best friend; defending himself.

"Whatever you say..." Oliver wasn't so sure this was how it had happened—a lot of girls had been giving Enrique 'the look' lately, according to the Italian. "Continue."

"Thank you! As I was saying, I went over to her table and we started talking. She said that she loved the food at the restaurant (A/N: The restaurant that they keep mentioning is Oliver's, just so you know.) so I told her I knew you and that you would be happy to make lunch for us and she was so excited. But then I remembered that you were still asleep...." he trailed off.

"So you came back here to wake me up and tell me that you invited a girl to my house and promised that I'd cook for you two?" The Frenchman asked, checking to be sure he'd gotten his facts straight.

Enrique nodded.

"What time is she going to be here?" Oliver asked his friend.

"About one thirty," the blond answered.

"I guess I'd better get started then," the Frenchman stated. He climbed out of his bed and headed towards the bathroom.

Enrique picked up Trouble. "Thank you Oli!" he called before leaving to go and get ready.

* * *

Oliver sighed. He wished he'd gotten more than a few hours notice. Oh well, he just wouldn't be able to make anything too extravagant.

He finished descending the stairs and entered his kitchen. It was one of his favorite rooms in the house (or mansion if you prefer). It was a big room, filled with all the appliances that the young chef could ever need. It also had several different ovens and sinks. At one end of the room there was a large pantry that was about the size of a walk-in closet.

The Frenchman wandered around his kitchen, grabbing various ingredients and cooking utensils as he went and dropping them off on the island. When he had everything he needed, he stood facing the various items and began trying to assemble them in some order.

Behind him, he heard a slight rustling sound and he turned around to see what could have made it. He didn't see anything, so he figured he was just hearing things and went back to work.

Several minutes later, Oliver found himself contemplating what he should make first. He decided that he should start with the dishes that would take the longest to make and work from there.

That was when he heard the rustling noise again, this time from somewhere to his left. He froze and listened. He was rewarded with another noise coming from one of his cabinets. He knew it had come from there because he'd actually seen one of the plates shift through the glass front of the cabinet.

Curious, the young chef made his way toward the cabinet in question and looked inside. There was nothing there. He straightened the plate and shut the cabinet's door before turning around and scanning the kitchen. He had a suspicion as to what was going on here—he just hoped that he was wrong.

Carefully, he made his way back to the island and picked up where he'd left off. He had decided to ignore the problem for now, unless it happened again or he found more evidence that his theory was true.

After all, nothing too bad had happened yet...so maybe nothing would.

Just then his phone vibrated in his pocket, surprising him a little. He had forgotten he'd put it there. He pulled it out and flipped it open. Enrique wanted to know how lunch was coming, so Oliver texted him back saying that he'd only been down here for about fifteen minutes, so how did Enrique think the food was coming?

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a tail disappear behind the toaster and heard the patter of tiny feet as they continued to walk behind the row of smaller kitchen appliances on the counter.

He sent Enrique another message. This one read: 'P.S. There's a rat in my kitchen.'

Sliding his phone back into his pocket, the Frenchman decided to make one last attempt to ignore the pest, but if it persisted then he'd have to do something. He wasn't sure what though.

Not much time passed before the young chef heard someone coming downstairs. He guessed it was probably Enrique, since there was no one else in the house. Unless you counted the rat and—

"Trouble!" Oliver exclaimed. The cat had reached the kitchen before Enrique and entered by pushing the door (which swung easily both ways) open with his paw. The reason he was in trouble was because he'd jumped right up onto the island and had rubbed against everything he'd passed on his way to see Oliver. White cat fur hung in the air and clung to everything.

"Why must you pick now to shed all over the place?" Oliver asked his pet as he scratched its ears.

Enrique entered the room shortly after Trouble. "So how did the rat get in here?"

"I haven't got a clue...I also don't know why the staff hasn't gotten rid of it yet," Oliver answered. He hadn't ever heard of a rat being in their house before, and he probably would have—his mother was terrified of rats. He wondered how it could've gotten in here in the first place. It wasn't as if his family lived in a dump.

"Why don't you just get rid of it?" Enrique asked.

"I don't know how to get rid of a rat," the French teen said, sounding a little bit outraged that he was being asked to get a rat out of his own house.

"How hard can it be?" the blond wondered.

"If it's so easy then why don't you get rid of it?"

"I have a date," the Italian reasoned.

Oliver rolled his eyes at his friend as he picked up Trouble and set him on the floor. The cat weaved itself between the two boys' ankles.

"I suppose I could always work with the rat...at least until the staff finds a way to get it out of here. After all, it's not really going to bother me unless it does something to the food," Oliver reasoned.

"What if it does do something to the food?" Enrique questioned.

Oliver shrugged. "I'm not eating it," he said, and then laughed at the look of shock on his best friend's face. "I'm kidding Enri! Jeez..." The Frenchman sighed. "If it does do something, then I'll have to try and either get rid of it, or find a way to keep it away from the food."

The older teen smirked. "Good luck," he said. "Come on Trouble, let's leave the chef to his rat-infested kitchen and finish getting ready for my date." With that Enrique left the kitchen, Trouble trotting behind him.

"Gee thanks," Oliver muttered. Thanks to a certain cat, he now had to wash his hands and get rid of all the fur Trouble had left behind. _'Great,'_ he thought, _'Even more work!' _At least the food had been out of the way.

When all the cat fur had been removed, (which took a while because the fur stuck to everything—_especially_ Oliver's t-shirt) the green-haired teen continued to prepare the food for his friend's date.

He worked for about half an hour with no sign of the rat. He was still a little disgusted about working with a rat in his kitchen, but since he hadn't seen it for a while, he didn't think the furry nuisance would make another appearance. The young chef figured he could live with it for now—so long as it didn't do anything drastic.

Oliver glanced at the clock and saw that it was noon. He'd better get working if he wanted to have everything done by the time Enrique's newest girlfriend got here.

He'd just put the first of his creations into the oven (A/N: I have no idea what he's making...use your imagination!) when the rat decided to make its presence known once again.

Oliver turned away from the oven and went back to the island. He continued working on another part of the meal—at least until he saw the cheese. The teen froze when he saw that the cheese he'd gotten out had bite marks in it and was no longer a perfect wedge shape. The rat had helped itself when Oliver hadn't been looking.

He frowned. It looked like he was going to have to do something about this rat after all. He couldn't just let it wander around his kitchen, helping itself to his food. And he most certainly couldn't let his mother see it when she got home.

The Frenchman finished his second dish and started the third, all the while wondering what to do about the rat. He had to stop several times with the discovery of more cat fur. When this happened for what must have been the fifth time, he got an idea.

Abandoning his kitchen for a little while, Oliver went off in search of Enrique. He found the Italian setting the table out on the patio by the pool. Oliver was a little surprised—he didn't know Enrique knew how to set the table. He hadn't even thought the blond knew where the plates were kept. He figured his friend must really want to impress this girl. He also knew that this date would most likely end up in the pool—a lot of Enrique's dates ended this way.

Anyway, as Oliver had suspected, Enrique had Trouble with him.

"Hey Enri?"

"Yeah?"

"Can I borrow Trouble for a bit?"

Enrique looked at his best friend inquiringly. "You're not going to make him eat that rat are you?"

"No, he's too much of a picky eater...I just want to see if he'll keep it away from my food," Oliver explained. "That little pest is driving me crazy...."

The Italian snickered. "It ate your cheese?"

"Yes actually," the green-haired teen answered, not in the mood for Enrique's smart mouth. "And it isn't very funny."

"I told you to get rid of it!" Enrique reminded his friend.

"And I told you I don't know how," the Frenchman argued.

"Just set a trap or something," the older teen said, offering his advice.

Oliver ignored him. There most likely weren't any traps in the house, and he didn't want to catch sight of the rat alive—there was no way he was going to look at it dead. "Come on Trouble!" he called. The cat ran happily over, glad to be invited to go with his owner.

As he watched Oliver take Trouble back into the house, Enrique shook his head. That cat would follow you anywhere, but he was a troublemaker at heart—hence his name. This should be interesting.

Back in the kitchen, Oliver was having an extremely hard time concentrating on his cooking. The reason for this was Trouble, who insisted on jumping onto the island where the young chef was working. No matter how many times he was placed back on the floor, the cat always found his way back onto the counter.

"Trouble!" Oliver exclaimed, setting the cat on the ground for the millionth time. "You're more annoying than the rat and even more stubborn than Johnny!"

The cat's only response was to jump back up in front of Oliver.

"No Trouble!" Oliver said firmly as he placed his pet back on the floor.

Avery better last longer than all the other girls because making lunch for her was proving much more difficult than it should be.

After about five more minutes of this, the French teen was extremely annoyed. He decided it was about time to either take the cat back to Enrique or for the rat to show up so he could see if this was even worth it.

As if on cue, Oliver caught sight of the rat's tail as it disappeared around the corner to the other side of the island. Trouble had seen it, too. As Oliver watched, his cat made its way around the island, curious about what it had just seen.

The green-haired teen couldn't see what was happening, but pretty soon Trouble came running back to him. Something had spooked him—Oliver couldn't believe it. Figures he had the only cat in the world that was scared of rats!

"Come on Troub, it's only a rat! It's more afraid of you than you are of it," he said, trying to convince Trouble to do his job and scare the rat to at least keep it from coming out of wherever its nest was. The cat wouldn't listen (not surprisingly), he'd been scared and wasn't going back over there.

Eventually, Trouble snuck back over. It looked like he was going to see what he'd been so scared of the first time. The cat ended up going the whole way around the island without seeing the rat.

Oliver tried not to think about where it could've gone. Then he heard the faint sound of the rat's little feet as it crossed a hard surface.

Trouble heard it, too. The sound must have scared him further or reminded him of his previous encounter with the vermin, because as soon as he heard it, the cat bolted out the door.

"Coward!" Oliver yelled after his pet. What was he supposed to do now? Avery would be here soon and he needed to finish making lunch—not to mention he also had to clean up more of Trouble's fur. This time he had to run upstairs and change his shirt because of all the fur.

He returned to his kitchen to find that the rat had caused more destruction.

Earlier, when Trouble had been in the kitchen, Oliver had taken a chocolate cake (made from scratch of course) out of the oven and left it on the counter to cool. Now, there was a chunk missing and there was a trail of crumbs leading towards the island. Oliver followed the trail carefully and discovered that the rat lived somewhere under the island. The Frenchman shuddered when he thought about how close he'd been to it this whole time.

He went back to the cake and realized that he'd have to make another one. What a waste of time—and all because that stupid rat liked chocolate. This meant war.

The chef decided to leave that cake where it was for know—with any luck the rat was like a dog and chocolate was bad for it. Maybe, if he was lucky, it would even die from it.

He decided to check the closet and was surprised to find that they actually did have rat traps. It seemed that this wasn't the first rat that had made its home in their house after all. He set the traps up around the side of the island where the crumbs led to. These traps were the kind covered in a sticky substance that would trap the rat if it walked over it. The green-haired teen had also found rat poison, but he didn't want Trouble to get into it. He'd only use it as a last resort.

So, traps set, Oliver went back to work. He was almost done with lunch and Avery would be here any minute now. But thanks to certain complications, he still had to make another cake.

_'Oh well,'_ he thought, _'At least I won't have to worry about the rat anymore.'_

That's when he heard the pots and other contents of the cabinets in the island start rearranging themselves. At least that's what it sounded like. It was actually the rat again—but what the heck was it doing that made so much noise?

Oliver resisted the temptation to open the doors of the cabinets and look inside—he had no desire to see the rat. To him it sounded like the creature was trying to find another way out of the island to avoid the traps that it seemed to know Oliver had set.

The teen gritted his teeth in frustration as he returned to the closet for more traps. This time, when he returned to the kitchen, he set the traps up the whole way around the island (under it of course—he didn't want to take the chance of stepping on it). There was no way that rat was getting out of there. (A/N: They must have a lot of rat traps...XD)

Unless of course it had already found another way out while the French teen had been gone.

Out of the corner of his eye he caught the movement of something falling off the top of the fridge. He looked over just in time to see a dark shape disappear into another hiding spot.

Oliver swore under his breath when he realized that he did not, in fact, have the rat trapped. Either that or their was more than one. He certainly hoped not—knowing that there was one around had been bad enough.

He crossed the room and replaced the bread (which was what had fallen) back on top of the refrigerator carefully. He didn't want to provoke the rat accidentally.

Then he backed up a few steps and continued to watch the top of the fridge intently , looking for signs of the rat. After several minutes of nothing happening, he assumed that either the rat was a really good hider, or it had already moved on to another area of the kitchen. Crafty little nuisance.

What to do about it now, he wondered. How was he supposed to get rid of it if he had no idea where it was? Maybe he'd finish making lunch for Enrique's date first and then decide.

When he'd accomplished this, the young chef set everything he'd made out on the island, waiting for Enrique to text him when Avery arrived. Then he began to pace back and forth in front of the island. He was both keeping an eye on the food to make sure the rat didn't get it and trying to think of how to locate and get rid of the creature.

He hadn't been doing this for long when he heard a sound from the pantry. Oliver wasn't sure he liked the idea of being alone in a tiny room with the rat, but he decided that he better go and check it out.

The Frenchman crossed the room and opened the door to the pantry as fast as possible. A quick scan of the room showed him that the noise he'd heard had been caused by the rat knocking several items off the shelves. He closed the door and returned to the island, where he removed one of the traps from it's spot. He took the trap back and slipped it under the door and into the pantry. He repeated this until there were several traps inside the other room.

With luck, the rat wouldn't even make it out of the pantry and that problem would be solved. Later it became apparent that luck was not on his side today.

Oliver noticed that he vermin had managed to avoid getting caught in his traps _again_ when he saw that the loaf of bread he had put on top of the refrigerator earlier had acquired a hole somehow and a piece of bread was being pulled out through it.

How much could one little rat eat? Well, hopefully it was only one little rat and not two huge rats or even one huge rat.

Unfortunately, the kitchen didn't have a door to the outside—otherwise he would try to lead the rat outside with a trail of food. Maybe he could make one leading to a trap instead. Although, the rat might be smart enough not to follow it—it had, after all, managed to stay free from the many traps in the room this long.

His doubts didn't last long though. After all, it was only a rat—how smart could it be?

The young chef set his trap on the ground along the bottom edge of the cabinets—to make it a little more inconspicuous. He decided to watch the trap this time, so that even if the rat did manage to somehow escape of avoid it, at least he knew what he was dealing with and could call a professional if the rat looked too friendly or too threatening. He didn't mind getting a look at it if it improved his chances of getting it out of his kitchen.

At that moment, Oliver's phone vibrated again. He pulled it out and flipped it open. Enrique had sent him another message—apparently Avery was here but they weren't quite ready for lunch yet. He responded with a simple 'OK' and tried not to think about what the two of them could be doing.

The green-haired teen put his phone back into his pocket and transferred his attention back to his trap.

He gasped when he saw that the rat had eaten—or stowed away—every last crumb of the chocolate cake Oliver had used for his trap of sorts. It was unbelievable! He looked away for a minute and the creature had managed to worm its way out of being caught _again_.

Needless to say, this was really getting on the Frenchman's nerves.

He had really been hoping the rat's first dose of chocolate would kill it. It turned out he'd just gotten the vermin addicted to it.

This was insane. He was a beyblader, an artist, and a chef and he was exceptionally good at all three—not to mention his various other talents—and he was highly educated. He found it hard to believe that he was incapable of outsmarting a rat. This must not be your average rat. Maybe it was an escaped lab rat that had had its brain tampered with to make it freakishly clever.

He had to figure out a way to get rid of it—or at least keep it busy so it wouldn't ruin the food that he'd worked so hard to make.

He realized that he should probably stop 'giving' it food—or else it wouldn't want to leave. Although, he could always tell his mother (or the staff) about it and have them 'take care of it'. But for now, he'd just have to find a way to keep it occupied somehow.

Oliver looked over at the first cake he'd made. It was half gone now—thanks to the rat. He figured he might as well just let the rat have the rest by using it to distract the creature. There was nothing else he could use it for now.

Now to think of a way to keep the rat busy for a while.... He looked around the room and an idea popped into his head when he spotted the pantry door. Maybe he could at least keep the rat in the tiny room until someone could get rid of it.

Picking up the half-eaten chocolate cake, he carried it into the pantry and put it as far back as he could. In his pocket, his cell phone vibrated again, but he ignored it for now. Whatever it was would just have to wait.

Then he left the room, closing the door behind him. Now all he had to do was watch to see if and when the rat went inside. Then he would simply have to block the space under the door so the rat couldn't get out.

He watched the door for a while, but then a movement caught his attention. The chef looked away from the door and saw the rat scurrying towards the pantry door—under cover of an empty bag of chips. He wasn't sure whether this was comical, or disgusting beyond belief. He decided that it was a combination of the two.

All that was visible of the creature was it's tail—which everyone knows is the creepiest part of the rat. It was very unnerving to think about how long the rat had had free reign of his kitchen.

As the green-haired teen watched, the rat made it to the door and squeezed under, leaving the chip bag behind. Then he himself crossed the room to the pantry , grabbing a roll of duct tape on the way. Once again he was amazed at the seemingly infinite amount of uses for the stuff.

Oliver shuddered slightly as he picked up the rat's discarded disguise and tossed it a safe distance away. Then he used the duct tape to seal the opening between the bottom of the door and the floor. He stood up wearing a satisfied smirk. There was no way the rat was going to escape this time.

Now that he'd finally defeated the rat, the Frenchman threw away all of the other traps he'd set and the chip bag (which he handled gingerly). All that he had to do now was wait for Enrique to text him about the food.

It was quiet tearing sound that caught his attention. Oliver was instantly alert and hurried to check the pantry. A terrible sight met his eyes when he got there. The rat had been able to escape _again_! This time by chewing/tearing a hole in the duct tape.

'I hope it chokes on a piece of that and dies,' Oliver thought angrily. It seemed impossible that the creature had managed to survive another of his traps. He swung open the pantry door—obviously a bit too hard he noticed as it slammed against the wall. Then he entered the tiny space to see that the creature had finished off the chocolate cake before making it's escape.

He was still hoping the rat would die from eating all that chocolate.

While Oliver was in the pantry, raving silently about the rat, Enrique entered the kitchen. He wanted to see what was taking the French teen so long with the food. He could see it all set out on the island—but there was no sign of his friend.

"Oli?" he called.

"I'm in here!" The voice sounded a little angry and came from the pantry.

The Italian went over to see what the other teen was doing. "Why are you in the pantry?" he asked, standing in the doorway to the closet-like space.

"The rat," Oliver mumbled.

"I see..." Enrique said, although he really didn't. "I texted you a while ago to bring up the food. I came down to see what was taking so long."

The younger of the two remembered now that his phone had vibrated earlier, but he had ignored it. "Sorry. I was a little distracted by the rat."

"Ah." The blond noticed the empty cake pan on the floor. "What is that doing there?"

The Frenchman's eyebrow twitched. "The rat."

"Okay...and the duct tape on the bottom of the door?"

"The rat."

"But I thought you were just going to ignore it."

"Yes, but that was before it ate an entire cake," Oliver explained.

"Why didn't you just set a trap or two?"

"I _did_ Enri! But the rat managed to avoid those, so I set out _more_ and it escaped those, too! So then I tried to catch it while it was in the pantry and it got away _again_. After that I made a little trail of cake leading to yet _another_ trap, but apparently I'm dealing with the world's smartest rat because that didn't work either. Then I decided to try and trap the thing in here, but it chewed trough the duct tape! That rat is not like any other I swear...it's had its brain messed with or something. It avoided every single trap I set for it! Clever little devil...."

Enrique was a little worried by his friends rant, and thought that maybe being forced into making lunch in only a few hours time had been a little too stressful. Next time he'd just take the girl to the restaurant.

"Oliver, why don't you go upstairs to your room and relax? You look like you need it."

"What about the rat? I can't leave it here...it's an evil mastermind!" Oliver objected.

"Uh, I'm sure it's not that bad Oli. Just go ahead and go upstairs. I'll take the food out to Avery and clean up in here," the Italian offered.

"But what about the—"

"And I'll see what I can do about the 'evil mastermind'," Enrique promised. "Just go."

"Alright, you win," Oliver said, giving up. After all, the other teen had promised to clean up, he didn't do that every day. The Frenchman just hoped that the rat didn't get bored in the kitchen and follow him upstairs.

* * *

Several hours later, Oliver realized that the rat must still be at large when he heard his mother scream in the kitchen.

He crawled into bed and pretended he was asleep so she wouldn't come asking him about the creature. He pitied the exterminator that had to deal with the rat now.

* * *

That one turned out longer than expected, but I'm happy it's done! I hope you liked it!

Read and Review! Please?

P.S. Tori and I planning on writing another one-shot that we have an idea for, and we need pen names of some Beyblade fanfiction authors on here, so if it's okay for us to use your username and you like to write Beyblade, let me know so we can use it in what might be our first collaboration story! None of them will be used in a bad way! Thanks in advance!


End file.
